


I don't want to be alone...

by Maegfen



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Detective/ surgeon AU, F/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 16:11:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4398599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maegfen/pseuds/Maegfen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s late, but then Abby had always taken pleasure in pushing his buttons about punctuality...<br/>Detective/ Surgeon Modern AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	I don't want to be alone...

**Author's Note:**

> This is an prompt fill for grrlinthefireplace on tumblr, who wanted an AU based off Billy Joel's song 'I Don't Want To Be Alone.'  
> So here it is :D

_Although you hurt me before_

_It didn’t matter that I felt like a fool_

_'Cause I forgot that when she walked through the door_

_I said I’m sorry, but she said it was cool_

_And I don’t want to be alone anymore_

Billy Joel - I Don’t Want To Be Alone

* * *

 

 

The tumbler feels heavy in his hand and he watches as the deep amber liquid roils around within the glass. The ice clinks against the edge, but it’s barely audible above the noise of the live band in the far corner of the bar.

Marcus has only been off shift for a couple of hours, but he’s already beginning to feel the need to go back to the precinct and find a case to bury his head in; anything to get out of the disaster the upcoming meeting’s likely to be.

He really really  _hates_  this hotel and all the goddamn memories that come with it.

He lifts the tumbler to his lips and takes a generous sip of his drink, swallowing the alcohol without really savoring it. Marcus glances at his watch as he places the glass back down on the bar.

She’s late, but then Abby had always taken pleasure in pushing his buttons about punctuality. His background in the military had made him a stickler for being places on time, whereas she’d always been more relaxed about getting to a destination at the time requested. It was one of the things about her that infuriated Marcus.

He takes another mouthful of his scotch and watches the doorway, hoping that she’ll arrive sometime before he falls asleep this evening. His tie suddenly feels too tight around his neck and he pulls at the knot after shrugging his jacket off his shoulders and letting it drop messily onto the back of his bar stool.

“Oh, leave it done up Marcus, it’s not  _that_  hot in here…”

Oh, of  _course_  she arrives in the one moment he’s not paying attention; he hates being on the back foot.

“Abby,” he mutters, turning to face her as she stands at his back. “Drink?”

Abby nods, and signals to the man behind the bar that she wants a glass of red wine. Marcus watches the man work before turning his attention to the woman beside him as the drink is placed in front of her.

He drags his gaze over her, taking in the smart summer dress and wavy flow of her hair. She’s obviously had a rare day off today; her hair is normally pulled up in a slightly untidy ponytail when she’s been at work.

“Evening Marcus,” she eventually says after taking a drink of her wine. “Thanks for meeting me here, I know you’ve always hated this place, but I had a consultation with the owner about hosting a charity event for the hospital here in the Fall.”

He shrugs.

“’S fine.”

He waits for her to continue the conversation, but when it’s apparent that she’s going to remain quiet, Marcus sighs and looks at her.

“What can I do for you Abby?”

Abby smiles almost nervously. It’s not a look he’s used to seeing on her.

“I thought we could talk. About the other night. About what you want to do about your things; if you were serious about leaving…”

And there it is,  _there’s_  the reason he’s sat in the bar of the goddamn Plaza Hotel at some ungodly hour. Marcus tenses, trying to gauge how he’s going to handle the conversation.

“I…” he starts, before pausing. He’s really not sure what he wants.

That’s a lie. He wants  _her_. He wants what they had back. He wants what he’d ruined to be whole again.

Marcus isn’t sure if Abby wants the same though, but the fact that she’d called  _him_  is enough of an indicator that she might be open to the possibility.

Abby hasn’t said anything else, and Marcus knows she’s waiting for him to speak.

He decides to cut his losses and go with honesty… it’s always worked in the past, hopefully the same would be said for tonight.

“I’m sorry about the other night,” he says quietly, his eyes focused on the drink in his hand rather than the woman beside him. “I was stressed with the case; Jaha’s been breathing down my neck to solve it before there are any more victims and David’s been put on reduced duties after the stabbing. I guess you probably knew about that already though, he was your patient after all…”

He gestures vaguely in front of him, mainly for something to do. He hates thinking about his partner bleeding out and choking on his own blood after a failed attempt to apprehend their lead suspect.

“I don’t need your reasons Marcus,” Abby says softly, head shaking slightly and eyes softening as she takes in his slumped shoulders. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you in the first place. I know you’ve been under pressure; your partner was attacked and injured and was close to dying on my operating table.”

There’s a moment of silence between them. Marcus faintly hears the band switch to something that resembles ‘The Girl from Ipanema’ but he pays them little attention.

“I thought it was you,” Abby suddenly admits, and Marcus turns to look at her.

“Sorry?”

“When they radioed through saying an NYPD Detective had been stabbed, in your precinct, in the area I  _knew_  you’d be that day. I thought it was  _you_ …”

He’s stunned into silence, because it’s been a week since the attack on Miller and four days since their argument in the apartment that resulted in him storming out and sleeping at the precinct on the uncomfortable couch in the rest room. Abby had never  _once_  mentioned her fears before or _after_  the incident.

“Oh,” he utters, still slightly dumbstruck. “Why didn’t you  _say_  something Abby?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs, taking another sip of her wine. “I wanted to, but then I thought I was being ridiculous, that  _you’d_ think I was being ridiculous. So I ended up angry instead and then, well, everything went downhill from there…”

Marcus nods in agreement. It had been a hell of an argument between them: words had been shouted, insults thrown and neither of them had backed down once they’d gotten going. It had only been his slamming of the door behind him that had truly ended it.

Marcus sighs again and looks over at Abby once more.  _If there’s any hope of fixing this, fixing us,_ he thinks,  _I need to make the first move…_

“Do you want to maybe grab some dinner?” He suggests, draining the rest of his scotch and putting the empty glass down on the bar with slightly more force than necessary. “I think we should probably have a proper talk about what happened. I… I don’t want to lose you over this Abby. I’ve hated being alone for the last few days; I just want to get past this and move on and concentrate on being together again…”

Abby’s expression doesn’t change and Marcus immediately panics, fearful that he’s potentially ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Slowly though, a small smile appears on her face and Abby reaches out and takes his hand in hers. Marcus holds his breath and waits as Abby leans over and places a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth; a promise of something more.

“I think that sounds like a very good idea. I’ve hated being by myself in the apartment, hated not having you there. But you’re right; we need to talk about this like proper adults.”

Marcus nods and stands, shucking on his jacket and paying the tab.

Abby takes his hand and he leads them out of the bar.


End file.
